


Home

by PepperF



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Kidfic, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jeff moved, and one time he helped someone else through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Bethany. ;) Thanks for sterling beta work, as ever, hon!

8

There was a soft knock, and then his mom's voice. "Jeffrey?"

"Go away!"

She didn't listen—no one _ever_ listened to him, these days. The door opened, and she peered around it. She had that look, like she had bad news and she couldn't think of how not to tell him. He _hated_ that look.

"Honey, they really need to start on your room now."

He turned his back to her, glaring fiercely at the curling Little League pennant on his wall. If he didn't blink, maybe his eyes would stay dry. Maybe they'd dry out _forever_.

Her hand touched his shoulder. He shook it off, but it came back. "Florence said that you can go next door and play with Teddy while the movers are here, if you want to? She's baked that carrot cake you love."

"I don't _want_ carrot cake! I don't wanna go next door! I don't wanna go _anywhere_!"

His mom sat down, which meant she wasn't going to fix this, she was going to make him move. "Sweetheart, I know this isn't what you wanted, and I know the new place is a little smaller, but I promise, you'll love it in no time—"

"I won't! I'll hate it!" His voice was doing that stupid thing where it went high-pitched and cracky, and he felt ashamed. Her hand rubbed soothingly up and down his back, and he really, really wanted to throw himself into her arms and cry—but he wasn't going to do that, he wasn't a _baby_ , he was going to man up. Men didn't cry when they were upset—they yelled. "I hate you! I hate dad! I hate all of this! I'm not gonna go! You can't make me go! I'll—I'll _sue_!"

Her arms wrapped around him, and he struggled for a moment, fearing that she was going to pick him up and carry him out of the room—but she just held on to him tightly, and at last the dam broke.

"Wh-why are you m-making me do this?" he sobbed into her shoulder. "I don't wanna go! I wanna live _h-here_!"

"I know, baby, I know," she said, squeezing him tightly. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could make this better for you."

But that just meant that she wouldn't, and Jeff cried harder, unable to stop once he'd started. It was all _so unfair_.

\---

28

 

When he'd signed his name—boldly, confidently—on the last document, and the keys has been handed over, the broker gave him a smile and a firm handshake, one professional to another.

"You invite me to that housewarming party, you hear?" he said, and Jeff chuckled in acknowledgment.

"I hear you. Thanks again for everything, Carlos."

"No problem. Nice doing business with you, Jeff."

Carlos let himself out, closing the door with a quiet snap and leaving Jeff in sole possession of his brand-new condo.

He turned around, looking approvingly at the wide windows, the wood flooring, the breakfast bar at a decent height for someone of Jeff's stature. He crossed to the door, tossing the keys in his hand, and flicked the latch, locking out the world.

His shoulders dropped at the release of tension.

He strolled slowly through the condo, looking anew at the square footage that now belonged to him. No one from the firm knew he was buying a place except for Ted, who kept confidences better than anyone Jeff had ever met. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, trying to picture where the bed would go. He didn't need to have a housewarming party. This place was for him alone, to choose how and when to let anyone in. He could lock out the rest of the world, if he wanted.

He walked through to the bathroom, empty except for a lonely roll of toilet paper. He closed the door behind him, and locked it.

Then he pressed his back against it, unable to hold back the shaking any longer.

_It's okay,_ he told himself, as his knees gave way and he sank to the floor. _I'm okay. I'm safe here. No one can find me here._ But his teeth chattered like he was frozen, and his heart was racing. He leaned his forehead on his bent knees and tried to control his breathing.

_I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe._

It wasn't true, of course—it was just an illusion, a façade, like everything in his life. But if he repeated it often enough, and if he could convince enough other people that he was fine, that he was in control, that he belonged, maybe he might start believing it.

\---

34

A few weeks shy of his thirty-fifth birthday and the start of the slow, terrible slide into middle age, and Jeff was being made homeless.

But it was fine. It was just a temporary hitch. He was putting his stuff into storage, that was all, and once he'd sorted out the little misunderstanding about the service fees (how? With what funds? No, it was _fine_ , he would _find a way_ ), he was going to move right back in. In the meanwhile, his faithful Lexus was spacious enough as a short-term solution.

Of course, he wouldn't be able to have all his personal belongings while he was living out of his car, but that was okay, he could get by for a few days without (oh god) the walk-in closet that was big enough to ensure that all his suits remained uncrushed on their wooden hangers, the hand-carved teak bed with its super king mattress and 300 thread count sheets, the blender that made protein shakes so smooth that he could down them without having to experience the flavor, the Italian faucets that he'd personalized with a notch at the ideal cleansing temperature for combination skin...

He was not going to cry.

Grimly, he carried on taping up box after box of belongings, some more precious than others. His law books—well, he wouldn't need them for a while, anyhow. His collection of contemporary art from the dealer that Ted had recommended and that he secretly kind of hated. His selection of single malts—okay, those might come with him. His Alexander McQueen mohair blend suit—no, that couldn't go into storage, it needed to breathe!

For one weak moment, when he'd received the final notice from the condo association, he'd considered asking the study group for help—if not in finding someplace to live, at least with the packing. But he'd quickly dismissed the idea, not wanting to encourage their further involvement in his life. He didn't want them pawing through all his stuff, looking for gossip, for new reasons to criticize him or to pity him—god, he _really_ didn't want their pity! He was grudgingly appreciative of their friendship, but that ended at the gates of Greendale. What he did outside of school—however he failed or succeeded—was none of their business.

Concealing it from them was going to be the trick, of course. They were nosy, interfering, curious, conclusion-leaping, alarmist… and for some unknown reason they actually seemed to care about him. He'd just have to play it safe. He'd do nothing to arouse their suspicions, keep everything normal on campus, and maintain his normal cool, calm and in-control exterior. He'd been playing that role for years, so it shouldn't be difficult to maintain the charade for a few weeks. Just until he got this sorted out. And everything would be fine.

\---

35

"You owe us for this, mister," said Annie. She was unpacking his books (which would be in perfect order when she was done, which was why he was getting her to do it).

"Absolutely. Unless compelled by circumstances outside of my control, I will definitely help, the next time you move."

She gave him a suspicious look, but couldn't seem to find a flaw in his reasoning. "Right." She looked around, while she efficiently arranged another shelf. "So what are you going to do about painting, now that we've moved all your stuff in?"

"What do you... I _already_ painted."

Annie looked around at the tasteful brown walls with a dismay she couldn't quite hide. "Oh! Well. Of course. It's very... you." Then she got flustered. "I mean, in a good way, not that you're dull and boring or anything! That is, um, I imagine it will look very good with your furniture, and you could always change it if you decide you don't like it—not that I'm suggesting you should, but just maybe an accent wall that's not quite so—but it's your place, and your decision!"

Jeff eyed her, not sure whether to be insulted or amused. "Want some salt?"

"Huh?"

"For that foot you've got in your mouth."

Annie grinned, relieved. "It's a very masculine look," she said, with dignity. "Which is not to my taste, obviously."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I didn't paint it purple and sparkly just to make you happy," he retorted.

Annie stuck out her tongue.

And then Britta shoved her way through the front door with a box of his best wineglasses, which she set down precariously on the side of a couch, and took her first look around. "Oh my god, who lives here, Mr. Hanky?!"

\---

41

"Next time, we're hiring movers."

Supine on the floor beside him, Annie groaned. "It went okay. Nothing too important got broken—I mean, I had sort of been thinking about getting a new dressing table mirror anyway, and I did find that one in a dumpster in the first place, so if anything, the fact that it lasted until now was a bonus."

Yeah, he was just going to pretend he hadn’t heard the part about the dumpster. "I don't care. I've had enough of moving for one lifetime. I swear to god, I don't care how much it costs, I'm hiring movers, if I have to work shifts at night school all summer to pay for—well, hmm." He paused, running that idea back through his head, weighing immediate pain vs. prolonged agony. "Maybe I'll blackmail the dean into giving me a raise," he temporized.

"Don't start planning anything on my account," said Annie. "Because I have no intention of moving from this spot, like, _ever_."

Jeff grunted, shifting slightly. "I think I've done that thing to my back again," he said.

"Oh Jeff, I told you to—"

"I know, I know. I don't suppose the number of that chiropractor is somewhere handy?"

"It's in my health binder, which is in the box on the left-hand side of the desk in the office," said Annie, instantly.

Jeff sighed, feeling strangely content. He crept his hand along the floor until it found hers. "Thank you," he said.

"For what? You did most of the heavy lifting." But her hand squeezed his.

"I don't know. For being you, I guess. All your hyper-preparedness and organization has been driving me up the wall, but you're right, it _does_ make everything easier in the end. And you respond to my complaining with a very restrained amount of physical violence."

"Despite great provocation."

"Despite occasional behavior that might be described as provoking," he said, grinning at their new ceiling when she huffed.

He tugged on her hand, dragging her towards him across the polished wooden floor (which, if he was honest, had been a major selling point, even though they were only renting). She whined in protest, but this changed to a contented hum when he tucked his arm around her, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

"You smell," she said.

"So do you."

She didn't argue this, and they lay in peaceful silence for a while. "I think I'm going to like it here," she said dreamily, walking her fingers across his chest. "Living with you."

"Mm." He was trying to work out how much energy he had left, and whether shower sex was completely out of the question. On the one hand, his back really did ache. On the other, well… Annie. And a new shower. Over which they had shared ownership (or, okay, tenancy rights). "I've never cohabited before."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. "Well, maybe you were just waiting for the right cohabitee."

"Something like that," he agreed. "You'll have to teach me the ropes—how to set up a chores schedule, how best to resolve household disputes… I mean, you're the one with all the experience, here."

"You know I probably spent more time at your place than my own after I got back from DC, right?"

"Yeah, I know, but this is different—this is _our_ place."

Annie wriggled. "Say it again," she demanded.

"What, 'our place'?"

She pushed herself up off the floor and flung her leg over him, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and sweeping it to one side. "And again," she murmured.

"Our—"

When she let him breathe again, he was definitely feeling a renewed burst of energy. Annie sat upright in his lap, with her fingertips on his stomach and her eyes bright. "Want to try out the shower?"

"Best. Move. _Ever_ ," said Jeff.

\---

And the one time...

56

It was nearly fifty years since Jeff had first moved, but he could still remember the anguish—albeit softened by time, love, and understanding. So when he knocked on Sebastian's door and found the kid on his bed with his back to the world, face pressed into his Captain Marvel pillowcase, his heart clenched in sympathy.

"Hey, Baz. Can I come in?"

Baz sniffed, and gave a full-body shrug. "Don't care," he muttered.

Taking this as permission, Jeff stepped into the room and sat on the bed. He put his hand on Baz's denim-clad leg and patted it reassuringly. "You wanna talk about it?"

There was a long pause. "What's the point?" asked Baz—tearful, and grumpy about it. "You and mom won't _listen_."

"Sure we will. Try me."

Baz huffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve, and finally rolled slightly to give his dad a cautious look. "I don't wanna move."

Jeff nodded. "I kinda guessed that might be it," he admitted. He slid down so he was lying on his back next to Baz on the tiny bed, and waited.

"I like my room," mumbled Baz.

"Of course you do. It's a pretty cool room." Although _far too full of Marvel posters_ , to Jeff's eternal, unspoken despair.

"And I don't know anything about San Diego."

"Yeah. Me neither. I hear it has a pretty good zoo, though," said Jeff, casually. He carefully didn't look at Baz, who was silent for a long time, digesting this.

"You can't just—just _bribe_ me to like it there," he said, finally.

"I'm not bribing you," objected Jeff. "Not in a way that would be provable in a court of law. I mean, it's not like I'm promising to take you to the zoo when we get there, or anything. Maybe I don't even like the zoo. Maybe I think it's stinky."

Baz had to work to conceal a little smile at that, noticed Jeff, with some satisfaction.

" _You're_ stinky," muttered Baz, defiantly. He buried his face in his pillow again. "And I'm gonna miss my _friends_."

"Aw, Bazbee, I know you are. And your mom and I are really sorry about that," said Jeff, honestly. It had, in fact, been the topic of many late-night conversations. "We can set up visits during school vacations, you know. And you can FaceTime, or whatever they're calling it these days."

"Ugh, _dad_ ," said Baz, in a much more normal tone. " _FaceTime_ , seriously?"

"Don't patronize me. I can still kick your ass at Raving Rabbids, you know."

"That's because you're old and you've been playing it for three hundred million years," said Baz, brutally.

Jeff pressed a hand to his chest. "Sebastian, you've killed me, I'm dying of a broken heart," he groaned. "You're a big meanie, that's what you are." He grabbed the boy, who giggled and tried to struggle away. "C'mere, I am trying to _hug you_ , dammit!"

"No, no, _no_!"

When he'd gotten Baz in an unbreakable hug/headlock, he relaxed. 

"We wouldn't do this to you if it wasn't really, really important, you know," he said. Baz sighed, and stopped trying to wriggle away. "Your mom feels terrible about it. The trouble is, she's such a giant brainiac that everyone wants her to work for them."

"But she's _my_ mom," object Baz, sulkily. "She should do what's best for _me_."

"Yeah, I know. She's trying her best. She turned them down, the first time they offered her the job," said Jeff. 

Baz lifted his head and stared at him incredulously. "No she didn't," he argued, uncertainly.

"She did. It was a couple of years back. I thought we should go, but she said the time wasn't right. She didn't want to take you out of school, after you'd finally settled in."

Baz digested that. "She did that for me?"

"Of course. Because she loves you, Baz, and she wants what's best for you, always."

"But why are we going _now_ , then?" The question was only a little whiny.

"Well, she thought, now that you're a bit older, you could handle it." Baz puffed up a little at this praise, and Jeff grinned at him. "Plus of course, it helped that they offered her, like, nearly twice the money this time, as an incentive."

Baz's face broke out in a proper smile at last. "I helped her play hardball," he said, a little smugly.

"Yeah, you did. But don't tell her I told you that part."

"Don't worry, dad, I won't." Baz lay his head back down on Jeff's chest, in thoughtful silence for a while. "So, there's a good zoo," he said, after a while. Jeff smiled to himself. "Are there any other incentives?"

Annie wasn't the only one who could play hardball, it seemed. "Well," Jeff said softly, hitching the kid closer, "apparently, there's some pretty good surfing to be had, and you're so good at skiing that I bet you'll pick it right up. We could get you some lessons, if you want. You'll be around a bunch of Californian kids who've never seen snow, of course, so that'll make you seem extra cool."

"Never seen _snow_?"

"Nope. And we'll be much closer to Uncle Troy and Uncle Abed—and Disneyland, of course..."


End file.
